The Tin Men Job
by EKSimmons
Summary: While the Spencer family deals with the demons unleashed by tragedy, the team attempts to take down the con ultimately responsible for the tragedy without their hitter. Final tale in the Spencer Family saga.
1. Chapter 1

**The Tin Men Job**

Gordon Randall hit the scan button on the radio of his car. The slow beat that had been emanating from the speakers didn't mesh with the swirling Portland traffic around him. He wanted something faster, something livelier. The lights ahead of him all turned green as the perfect tune reached his ear. He stopped the scanner and pressed the gas pedal down.

The beat thumped as the wheels churned faster and faster. Gordon opened his mouth to begin singing along when a wave of lightheadedness overtook him. His hand slipped from the wheel, the world around him darkened. He blacked out, his body slumping down as his car continued its momentum straight into a line of cars waiting for the approaching MAX.

* * *

Parker placed a checkmark on her clipboard and dumped it on the bar. She sighed and spun around to take in the pub. One gentleman sat at a table by the window with his coffee and paper. Dinner traffic would begin rolling in within the hour. Every table had been straightened, candle lit, and menu replaced. Amy came around behind the bar carrying a tray full of cleaned glasses.

"I cleaned every dish, and cleaned the bathrooms. We should be ready to go," she sighed.

"That's it for the checklist," Parker smiled as she marked Amy's progress.

"How's it going?" Hardison's voice carried ahead of him as he came around the corner from the backroom. He stopped behind Parker and glanced over her shoulder.

"We're ready if Eliot is," Parker replied, handing the checklist to him.

"Excellent. Yo Eliot, how you doing back there?" Hardison called.

Eliot approached the opening between the bar and kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. "Food is prepped, and I finished up some desserts for the new menu to try."

"Ooo," Parker's eyes lit up as she sat up straight trying to see past Eliot to the desserts.

"Later Parker," Hardison chided. She slouched down.

Amy glanced down at the back bar, a phone lay there flashing. She held it up to the window. "Somebody wanted to talk to you."

Eliot dropped the towel on the counter and grabbed the phone from her. He unlocked the screen and looked at the call list. The voice mail icon flashed. "Dammit, what time is it?"

"About 5," Hardison replied.

" _Hey Eliot, my flight got in a bit early. I know you're working so I took a cab. Be there soon."_ William's voice carried loud enough for them all to hear.

"Isn't it weird that your dad is coming to visit you while your mom is staying with your sister?" Parker frowned. Hardison stared at her with wide "shut up" eyes.

"Jesse's in her nesting phase. Mom is helping out and as Dad put it- unless you're the father, you're only in the way. He did his turns and had no interest in dealing with more. I know he'd rather stay home but I'm sure Mom told him he had to come if he wasn't going with her. She still doesn't want him alone," Eliot explained.

"Your mom seems to wear the pants in your family, huh? Wish my mom did, might not get such disapproving looks all the time," Amy muttered.

"The message is 30 minutes old," Eliot sighed.

"So he should be getting here any minute now," Parker grinned.

"Old man Spencer in Portland… this oughta be REAL interesting," Hardison laughed.

A group of men entering the pub, speaking in raised, excited voices disrupted the group.

"That was ugly, man."

"I didn't even know we had that many ambulances here…"

"Excuse me, couldn't help but hear. What are you talking about?" Parker blurted.

One of the men looked at her as his companion took a seat. "Some big wreck down the street- bunch of cars and the MAX. It ain't pretty. Gonna be a lot of bodies I think."

"Guess it's a good thing your dad's not a fan of the mass transits. Could have been on that train instead of a taxi," Hardison offered.

"You waiting on someone in a cab? What company?" the man asked.

"Don't know which one he took," Parker answered.

The man swallowed, "Well, I hope it isn't but there is a cab in the middle of that mess."

Eliot's jaw and cheeks slowly drew down away from his face. His eyes were large as saucers. He didn't utter a word as he tore around the kitchen, through the pub, out the door and down the street as fast as his legs could carry him.

"Ok, THIS is not what I meant…" Hardison swallowed. Amy and Parker both looked at him sorrowfully.

* * *

His breath and heartbeat raced heavily as Eliot slowed his speed approaching the cordoning line. He surveyed the scene. The cab was sandwiched between the MAX and two other vehicles. The paramedics and firemen had already winched one car back to gain access. He began searching the scene wildly trying to find the rescued occupants before finally spotting two gurneys being loaded behind the pile of cars. A female paramedic was leaning over one gurney asking the man his name.

Eliot threw the cordon line up and ran toward the gurney. Two officers spotted him and gave chase. They were two steps behind when he reached his destination and grabbed William's hand.

"Da… dad?" Eliot stammered, gasping for breath.

"Sir, you can't…" the officers began, their hands raised cautiously in front of them.

The paramedic waved them off. "It's okay, it's his father. I got it," she replied.

They scowled but slowly retreated back to their posts.

"He's your father?" she asked Eliot.

He nodded and swallowed. "Yeah," Eliot choked on his word.

"Breathe for me, okay? You want to accompany us?" she offered. He nodded without thought. She offered a seat out of the way.

"Closing up," her partner barked as he closed the door behind them and ran to the driver's seat.

"What's your name?" the woman asked.

"Eliot," he replied.

"Eliot, okay. I'm Beth Ann. What's his?" she nodded toward his father.

"William."

"William… okay, William, I need you to stay with me, okay. We're gonna get you to the hospital as quickly as we can and get you all patched up but I need you to do what I say in the meantime."

"How bad is it?" Eliot swallowed.

"We don't know. They had to cut him out of the back of the car. There's some internal bleeding. He's not wanting to answer questions so we can't rule out a head trauma of some kind either."

The tears burned in Eliot's eyes as he fought them back. He swallowed hard and nodded. "But he can make it, right?"

"I've seen some survive worse… but can't give him odds without more information that we just don't have the time to get. He's got a chance, and that's good enough for me." She smiled and turned to grab some supplies out of the doors behind her. Eliot laid his hand on William's shoulder and took a deep breath.

* * *

Nate and Sophie turned the corner into the hospital waiting room. Parker and Hardison sat in the corner talking amongst themselves.

"How's he doing?" Sophie asked as they stood up to meet them.

"Not good. They had him in surgery for a while but… he asked for Eliot a minute ago," Hardison explained. His eyes shifted low as he spoke.

"And Eliot?" Sophie swallowed.

Hardison shook his head slowly. Sophie nodded her understanding.

* * *

Eliot approached the hospital bed carefully. William was still, the machines around him buzzing. Even with all the noise, Eliot could hear his own breathing loud and clear.

"Come here," William requested. His voice was meek but the intent was strong. Eliot stepped up to the bedside where his father could see him.

"Dad," Eliot began.

"Listen to me carefully."

"No, Dad you fight this. You understand me?" Eliot barked.

"Boy…" William's eyes pinched shut as he swallowed a moment. "Eliot… there is a time to listen and a time to act. This is one of the former."

Eliot hung his head and gave a quick nod.

"I'm not one to share or show myself. I know you were cursed with that. Let me pass along a lesson you need to know."

"You don't…"

"Eliot… it took me a long time to learn and I don't want to see you waste any more time on it. While I don't know the story you hide in shame, I do know you will not get past it without sharing it. I won't ask you to tell me, but I ask you to share with someone."

"I can't do that. No one can understand what I did."

"Your friends… they will understand. I know you don't believe me but please find someone you trust to tell. That is a weight you need to lose. No matter how bad it is, you can't keep it in. It will destroy more than you know."

"I know it will, but I can't. They'd never be able to see me the way they do anymore. I can't…"

"You can't know how they see you now. I know they know you hold that darkness. They may know and understand more than you believe. I only ask you to try. Don't be me. I lost twenty years with you that I'll never have back… don't make the same mistake for yourself. Don't lose people including yourself over what was." William coughed harshly.

"I've spent years trying to change…" Eliot stated.

"And you can lose it in a moment. You trust someone… or you don't. But you can't ask more of anyone than you are willing to give yourself." His eyelids fought to stay open and his breaths struggled to enter.

"Dad?" Eliot tried to remain calm. William failed to respond in kind. One of the monitors began a high pitched screech. He repeated his statement.

Several medical personnel began flooding the room. One ushered Eliot backwards to the door, begging him to give them room. Eliot resisted slightly but allowed his transfer to the hallway outside. He stood in the hallway staring though the door as the medical staff worked feverishly.

The team saw the commotion and noticed Eliot now stone still in the hallway. They approached carefully and silently. Sophie reached him first, placing her hand on his shoulder.

"Eliot," she began. He pulled back from her hands, proceeded several steps down the hall and grabbed a trash receptacle between two benches. A few breaths later he heaved into the bin. Hardison doubled over trying not to get sick himself. Parker rubbed his shoulder while Sophie went to assist Eliot. Nate lowered his eyes and sighed deeply.


	2. Chapter 2

"I don't like leaving him alone like that, Nate. I've never seen him so distraught. What if he does something crazy?" Sophie pleaded as she followed Nate with his cup of coffee and newspaper into the team's conference room. Parker and Hardison were already in the room.

"Do you really think any of us could stop him if he did?" Nate offered. She pouted her lips. "Besides, he needs the space right now."

"He scares me, Nate. How do we know he isn't dead somewhere?"

"Because he just finished three hours of phone calls making arrangements to get his dad back to Oklahoma including airfare for himself," Hardison interjected as she sat down.

Sophie rolled her eyes at Nate. "You have Hardison listening to his phone?"

Nate glanced at her and shrugged, maintaining a standing position two steps back from the counter.

"Thank you," she smiled.

"When does he fly out?" Nate redirected at Hardison.

"Two days. Take that long to get the body processed. The funeral is a week after," the hacker answered.

"Good, that should be enough time."

"Enough time for what?" Parker scrunched her face in confusion.

"Enough time to take down the person responsible for this." Nate took a sip of the coffee.

"Responsible? It was a car accident. Some guy had a medical issue and crashed. He's dead, how do we take down a dead guy?" Parker asked.

"Not the dead guy, Parker."

"Are you saying someone caused the accident? Oooo, is it the car manufacturer or his medical provider?" Sophie imagined.

"Yes, no and no," Nate wagged his finger in time to his response. "Hardison?"

The hacker smiled as he hit the button on his remote to begin presenting their case. A picture consumed the screen showing a middle aged woman in casual clothes.

"Meet Marin Randall, the widow of our deceased accident victim. She's a self-proclaimed event planner though I only found three parties -all disasters- in her files." He hit the button and changed the screen to a single shot of the homepage for a Feed Me crowd funding page with Gordon's picture.

"Marin set up one of those crowdfunding pages looking for money from her husband's tragic death. Talking about what a great loss he is to the community and their insurance will barely cover the casket and so on."

"What's the real story?" Parker grinned evilly.

"The real story is old boy was a two bit accountant at a public firm, never did anything for his community that I can find… and yet somehow was insured for a million bucks," Hardison continued.

"A million dollars? How did they manage that?" Sophie choked.

"Cause unknown to Uncle Sam- the Randalls have a nice nest egg, or should I say multiple nest eggs overseas to the tune of about 10 million dollars."

"Where did they get that kind of money?"

"Like many rich people, they scammed it," Nate interrupted.

"Exactly," Hardison replied. "The Randalls have been running crowdfunding scams for years. I found at least a dozen different ones including a 'help our son's medical costs', 'save our neighbor from eviction', and my personal favorite- 'help rebuild our house after Hurricane Sandy'."

"All scams?" Sophie scoffed.

"Yep, the picture of their 'son' was stolen from a website in Poland, the neighbor was an article in the London Times, and they lived in Colorado when Sandy hit."

"Classy."

"They've been running scams to bilk money from people for years. How has nobody caught them?" Parker inquired.

"Because crowdfunding websites have practically no accountability. Modern laws haven't caught up to the technology world. You can post any sob story and never have to prove anything about your need or where the money goes," Hardison answered.

"Perfectly legal cons," Nate stated.

"So they're con artists. That doesn't explain the accident," Sophie twisted her lip.

"Every con has been BOTH Marin and Gordon until now," Hardison began.

"Well, he's dead," Parker retorted.

"Yes, BUT Marin set up the account for this page three DAYS before the accident. That got me thinking so I did a little digging. I found tons of texts, voice mail and emails between the two that were not very pretty. Seems Gordon was tired of the cons and wanted to retire with their nest eggs but Marin wasn't quite at her fill yet."

"He planned to cut off the money train so she cuts him off…" Sophie nodded.

"Setting up one big insurance pay day AND another scam all in one nice package."

"Shouldn't the cops find all of this in their investigation?" Parker frowned.

"Not likely. The reports show no signs of foul play which means they have no need to look beyond the medical condition."

"How do we know this isn't all coincidence, if we're going to be fair?" Sophie asked.

"Instinct," Nate replied as he opened the newspaper and began folding it over.

"Okay, assuming she is guilty, how do we approach her if the cops aren't looking for her?"

"The cops don't know she's guilty of anything yet."

"But they will after…"

Nate smiled. "After we steal a party…" he tossed the newspaper on the counter in front of them all. The headline that reflected upward read, "AG Planning Daughter's Sweet Sixteen."

* * *

He placed the stack of shirts into his suitcase. Everything was packed but bathroom supplies. Eliot stared at the case sitting on his couch. A sigh erupted from his chest. He turned and grabbed one of the three full beer bottles sitting on the coffee table. His feet trudged to the chair on his right as he twisted the top off the bottle and dropped it to the floor. It bounced and rolled along past the three empty bottles sprawled on the hardwood. Eliot flopped into the chair, his eyes fixed on the chair opposite himself. A plastic bag sat in the chair, his father's personal belongings packaged up by the hospital staff. He snorted, took a sip and leaned his head back as the tears stung his eyes.


	3. Chapter 3

Flynn's car sat in the driveway next to William's pickup truck as Eliot pulled up to the garage door. No sound came to his ear. Even the birds seemed to be keeping a solemn silence as he turned the car off.

Nothing moved until Eliot was halfway down the walk. The front door opened and Jesse stepped out on to the porch. Eliot stopped on the step in front of her.

"I know," she breathed. She leaned forward to hug him as tight as she could with her 9 month belly protruding between them. His lip quivered as he held his tongue.

"Mom?" he swallowed.

Jesse released him and sighed heavily. "She's okay. She was a wreck when you called us, but I think she's okay. She always knew he would go first and I think she accepted it."

"You and Dillon?" He couldn't bring himself to look at her.

"One day at a time. He's a tough kid, you know that. We're survivors. It's what we do," she responded.

"Yeah," he muttered.

She leaned her head to try and look him in the eye. "How are you doing?"

He swallowed, tilted his head and took a deep breath.

"I thought so. You can't blame yourself, Eliot. If you want to play that game, we're all guilty. Mom told him to go visit you. I made it uncomfortable to be by us… where do you draw the line? Nobody knew, Eliot, nobody. It was an accident and we have to accept that. Things happen and there's nothing any of us could have done. Even if you had picked him up, how do you know you wouldn't have been killed in that wreck with him? This is a game you can't win. Don't play."

Eliot lifted his eyes to look at her a moment before darting them away again. He swallowed as he gave a small nod.

"I know this is going to be hard for you but we're here. We love you. Dad loved you. Don't shut us out. This isn't a fight to do alone. We do this together. All of us." She stared him down.

He took a deep, uneasy breath and exhaled slowly.

"Good. Now get in here before Mom starts hollering for you. Last thing we need is her getting worked up over something else."

* * *

Marin Randall nervously rearranged her water glass and mug of tea. She sat in a back booth at Carlito's Cantina- one of the most revered establishments in town. The biggest event the area had ever seen was all over the newspaper and SHE had received a request from the man himself to arrange it. Well, not the man, but his man, and that was equivalent in her book. If she could pull off this party, it would legitimize her and she'd never have to worry about the Calloway's trainwreck of an engagement party where the highlight was the food poisoning or the Holland confirmation when she filled the hall with the only flower of which Gillian Holland was deathly allergic. Nobody would remember any of that and she could finally be touted as the master of events. Attorney General Vincent Carlyle was throwing a sweet sixteen for his only daughter, Genevive, and she was going to plan it.

"Mrs. Randall?" Nate's voice startled her as she looked up to see him standing next to the booth. He wore a charcoal suit with a lavender shirt and carried a brown leather briefcase.

"Ms. Randall… my husband is no longer with us," she corrected. "Mr. Montgomery, I presume?"

"Yes, Ma'am," Nate slid into the opposite seat. "Mr. Carlyle wished me to express his gratitude at your acceptance of this task on such short notice. The previous planner had an accident and will be unable to carry out the event. He wishes it to still be carried out on time so you will be rushed but you are authorized to spend whatever is necessary to keep on the tight schedule."

"I heard about the previous planner… but I am curious. The newspaper said Aldonetta's was going to be taking over, may I ask what changed?"

Nate leaned in close and whispered, "Can you keep a secret? That's a rumor we leaked to the press to throw them off the trail. They've been hounding the process from day one trying to get all the details spilled. Mr. Carlyle usually tolerates the media, comes with his job, but this is about his daughter and he would prefer she be able to celebrate this milestone without the paparazzi cameras lighting up the room. I do hope your discretion is well in hand. You are only to speak with me, no one else. The rest of the staff believe the cover story- helps keep leaks away- so you are expected to keep this completely under the radar. Not a word until the party is over."

"You have my word. I won't say anything until it is over. I'm your girl." Marin couldn't contain her excitement as it pulled her smile wide.

"Then let us begin. This is a tight schedule and we mustn't waste time."

Marin pulled a tablet out of her purse and opened up a note app. "Okay, what are the specifics Mr. Carlyle has in mind? Number of guests, themes, a location… whatever it is."

"Princess… and I don't mean Disney. Genevive is his princess and he'd like for her to be one for a day. We're talking a castle, ball gowns, a feast, the works. You should expect to accommodate 300 guests and about 50 staff."

"He wants a castle… in Portland?" Marin blinked hard.

"Are you saying you can't do this?"

"No, no… but it may be difficult to locate a castle within a reasonable distance."

"I'm sure you can find a reasonable approximation within the designated distances. I'm going to leave you my card. Remember you only speak with me, that is my direct line on there. Good luck, Ms. Randall." Nate handed her a business card as he stood and strode away.

Marin sighed and slouched into her seat. "Where the hell am I going to find a castle in Portland?"

* * *

"Where indeed," Hardison laughed as he brought up a picture of a fortress looking mansion on the view screen. "Randall is gonna find the only thing that will pass for a castle in the area is a mansion belonging to a banking heiress, Jocelyn Wescott. The woman is an eccentric. Luckily, she's staying in Paris for the next two months while the mansion is fumigated for rats… big ones. The place isn't safe for man nor beast for at least a week."

"Rats?" Sophie scrunched her nose. Nate and Parker snickered on either side of her.

"The fumigation team?" Nate asked.

"You're looking at him," Hardison laughed. "That place is our playground for the next week, until the staff return."

"Now we need staff to run it or Marin won't buy the con," Sophie added.

"Sophie, how long will it take to get suits for all of your students?" Nate smirked.

"About an hour," she grinned.

"Let's go steal a castle."

* * *

 _He crept down the hall, a gun in his hand and his rear waistband. The home was dark and quiet. A faint smell of death began to fill the air. The silencer on the guns hid the sound of the shots he'd fired in the rooms behind him._

 _The door on the left was his next target. He opened the door carefully. A bed in the corner was occupied, the blankets pulled up over the head. He leveled the gun and pulled the trigger. The form recessed slightly. An arm dropped down from beneath the blanket. The small hand attached to it bounced in the air as the arm hit the side of the mattress. All the fingers loosened and a small token fell to the floor. He stared down at the token- a small stone deer carving, a cross etched into the rear hind quarter. His blood ran cold._

Eliot shot upright. He was drenched in sweat, his heart racing and his body shaking. His eyes darted around the room but nothing was out of the ordinary. He was alone on the couch where he had been the whole night. A few deep breaths helped slow the pulse and shaking but Eliot couldn't help the fear and shock running rampant through his system.

Pressed tight against the wall near the bathroom door, Dillon held his breath. He watched Eliot's violent rise and panic. His heart began to thump faster as he slowly tiptoed back to his room.


	4. Chapter 4

Marin Randall leaned on her hand as she continued scrolling down the computer screen.

"How am I gonna get this if I can't find the castle? There has to be _something_ around here that can be passable…" she muttered. "I can't fail this!"

Her fingers smashed the keyboard in frustration. "Grrr… I'll never find it." She sighed and pushed the keyboard away as the screen rolled to the bottom of the search page. The last image caught her eye. A large stone mansion with turrets, a stable and a wooden bridge entrance peered back at her in the pictures. She stared as her fingers gently slid the keyboard back in front of her.

"Hello… where are you?" A few clicks and scanned paragraphs had a smile on her face. "Ms. Wescott- you are a lifesaver."

* * *

"I hope you haven't been inconvenienced by the abruptness of the meeting. Ms. Wescott is preparing for an overseas conference and her schedule is incredibly full. Is there anything you want as we wait? Water, coffee, tea?" Parker offered. She wore a pale pink skirt suit with heels, her hair pulled up in a French twist. Marin Randall sat on an ornate bench in the grand hall.

"No, not a problem and I don't need anything, thank you," Marin replied.

"That is good as I only have a few moments," Sophie's voice broke the room. They looked up the staircase to see her coming down in a jade pants suit, the bottoms slightly flared over her ivory heels.

Marin stood hastily. "I don't want to intrude, so whatever time you have will be enough."

"Make it quick then…" Sophie stopped right next to her.

"My name is Marin Randall, I'm an event coordinator," Marin began.

"Get to the point, darling," Sophie sniped.

"I would like to inquire about renting part of your residence for a birthday party," Marin spat out. "I know that it is a little unusual but your home is the only thing I can find that would pass for a castle in the area."

"HAHA," Sophie laughed haughtily. "A castle… well, that is true. You entertain me but I don't see your little birthday party being able to afford to rent my bathroom. I'm sorry you wasted your time."

"The party is for the Attorney General's daughter. I've been given the okay to cover the costs. Just lay it on me," Marin pushed.

"So you are planning the party for Miss Genevive? That is a pleasant surprise. The girl is like a pet to me. Yes, whatever you need, please give Vincent my best and Simone here will handle all the details. If you will excuse me, I am going to be late to a dinner appointment."

"Darius has the car waiting outside, ma'am," Parker stated.

"Good evening," Sophie tipped her head and exited the front door.

"So, we need to discuss arrangements?" Parker smiled as Marin released the breath she held.

* * *

Silence held the room as Evelyn placed a bowl of fruit in the middle of the dining table. Dillon sat in front of her looking around at everyone. Jesse and Flynn occupied the end of the table next to him sipping juice and coffee. Eliot was across from Dillon, avoiding everyone's gaze. Breakfast on their plates barely touched.

"Now I know we're all upset but that's no excuse for empty stomachs. Don't you let this food go to waste," Evelyn barked. They all began eating slowly in continued silence as she sat down to her meal.

"Were you warm enough, sweetie?" Jesse asked Dillon as she helped herself to the scrambled eggs.

"Yeah," he muttered as he absently twirled his spoon in the cottage cheese on his plate.

"How did everyone sleep? Okay I hope. Never thought the house would feel so small," Evelyn babbled.

"We were comfortable, Mom. I don't know about Eliot though. That old couch is pretty beat in," Jesse suggested.

"It's fine," Eliot stated, not taking his eyes off the biscuit he tore to shreds on the plate.

"I'm glad to hear that. It's going to be a rough week the way it is without anyone being in discomfort on top of it. Let me know if it isn't, honey, I'm sure we can borrow a cot or an air mattress from the neighbors or someone down at the church," Evelyn offered.

"I'll be fine." Eliot fought the urge to snap his reply. The tension became very heavy and drew the silence back around them. Even Evelyn quietly set about eating her meal.

After a few minutes, Eliot stood up. "I'm going to grab the shower unless there's an objection."

"No, by all means, honey. I think everyone is still finishing up here," Evelyn replied as the others offered small smiles of agreement. He pushed in his chair and disappeared into the hall.

Dillon continued staring at the door after him, his face tense.

"What's the matter? You've been too quiet and distant this morning." Jesse rubbed Dillon's shoulder as she spoke.

"Something's wrong with Uncle Eliot," Dillon answered. He turned to face her.

"He's upset like the rest of us. It's a sad time," Jesse comforted.

"It's not just that. He had a nightmare last night."

"Now how would you know that?" Flynn asked.

"Yes, how do you know that?" Evelyn added as she placed her utensils down.

"I had to go to the bathroom during the night. I heard some noises in the living room so I stopped and looked. I saw him moving and then he bolted upright all twitchy and sweaty like you used to do, Mom," Dillon explained.

"He's stressed a little, that's all. It's nothing to worry about." Jesse didn't believe herself as she spoke.

"Yours wasn't. He helped you when you had them. I think we need to help him."

"Any suggestions there little man?" Flynn gave a small nod.

"Well, how did he help you, Mom? Can we do the same thing?" Dillon queried.

Jesse twisted her lip. "I don't know. Your uncle is very complicated. I'm not sure he'll tell us what is bothering him for that to work."

"We have to try, don't we?" Dillon pouted.

"We can try."

* * *

Eliot took a deep breath and let it out as he climbed into the shower. He dove his face beneath the cascade of drops and let the steam surround him. Somewhere he heard a murmur of sound but he attempted to shut it out. The sound grew in volume. He pushed it aside and it grew louder than the water but he couldn't make out the words.

"Haha, well done, Spencer. _I_ almost believe the story." The familiar voice broke through Eliot's mind loud and clear.

His eyes flew open. Eliot found himself standing on a terrace. An ornate wrought iron table set stood next to him decked out in an elegant breakfast display. In the distance a television was scrolling through a news story. He looked down at his clothes- a black long sleeve shirt with a double shoulder holster, boots, belt and jeans. Two pistols sat nestled in the holsters. Eliot turned to look at the sole occupant of the table just behind him. The devilish grin and slicked hair made his blood run cold. Moreau sat there with a champagne flute in one hand, the remote to the television in the other. He continued flipping between the news networks as they covered the same story.

"Suicide, very clever, I applaud that." The very sound of Moreau's voice froze Eliot's spine.

"No," Eliot shook his head as he squinted his eyes shut. Water sounds returned to his ears. He opened his eyes to see the tile wall. His face was pressed against his forearm braced against the wall. A swallow made his lip start to quiver and his breath heavy. Eliot wasn't sure what ran down his cheek- the water or tears.


	5. Chapter 5

"Bunting and banners would be perfect between these pillars," Marin pressed her fingers against her chin as she looked around the ballroom. "Maybe I can locate a few inexpensive statues to place under them."

"What particular statuary are you considering?" Parker responded without lifting her eyes from her notepad.

"I don't know whatever I find on short notice." Marin waved absently.

Parker rolled her eyes up and stared at Marin. "There is an extensive collection in the storage. I can have George bring out any pieces that you may require."

"Storage?" Marin's face twisted.

"Yes, there is a storage building on the back of the property. 25,000 square feet that we use to store some old furniture and items that the lady of the home tires of or no longer works with the décor…"

"25,000? What else might I find out there if I looked?"

"What do you need?"

Marin grinned. "How much will that add to the cost?"

"If we have the items you require, a simple fee to cover George's labor."

"It's perfect." Marin could hardly contain her glee.

"Once you get a list together, I can confirm that we have everything you require and make arrangements for George to move it to the ballroom here."

"I will get that to you first thing."

Parker closed up her notepad. "I need to go check on some things. You may remain and gather your list of requirements."

"Thank you." Marin's jaw hung open as Parker left the room. "This is perfect. Every thing is here, and included… I am finally going to show people what I am capable of. No more disasters. I'll throw the perfect party and I'll make a killing doing it."

* * *

"Are we set?" Nate checked his phone screen. He sat at a coffee shop table with Marin, her papers across the table top.

"Yes, I found the perfect location and the décor will be perfect. There is nothing to worry about. Mr. Carlyle will be incredibly pleased. I guarantee that."

"Excellent, do you have the bill for us?"

Marin grabbed a form off one of the stacks and handed it to Nate. "This is the costs associated with the location, the catering and my fees. I will be sure to let you know if any other unexpected costs arise."

Nate scanned the form. "This should cover that." He pulled a folded check from his coat pocket and handed it to her. She opened the check and her jaw dropped.

"Yes, yes… I believe that should cover everything."

"Mr. Carlyle appreciates your discretion in this matter."

"It has been a pleasure and I do hope to be able to assist him in future events."

"First we'll see how this one plays out," Nate chided as he stood and excused himself.

* * *

"She overcharged for the location and the food… about $4000 worth," Hardison snorted as the team kicked back for the night.

"Real piece of work she is… at least be SUBTLE about it." Sophie rolled her eyes.

"We want her comfortable with the arrangements. Comfortable leads to careless," Nate explained.

"I don't think careless is a problem, Nate. She killed her own husband and doesn't have even an ounce of regret."

"You know what I mean."

"I know, just, this woman is creepy how completely unemotional she is. I can't understand that."

"I'd be scared if you did," Hardison muttered.

"How do we get the cops on her trail?" Parker redirected as she drew swirls on the countertop with her fingertip.

"We focus on the party. We want her to stay obsessed on the party and keep trying to make it perfect," Nate stated.

* * *

After a day of discussing funeral arrangements, the Spencer clan settled in for a quiet dinner and a short night. As everyone prepared for bed, Eliot took some time to clear his head. He wandered out into the back yard. He glanced over to his right and saw the shadow of the rusted out swing set. The stability of the old set was gone, the paint long since faded or peeled, and it had grown over but his father had never taken it down. Eliot watched the silhouette of one of the swings sway. His mind felt at ease and drifted with nothing but the dark and shadows surrounding him. He blinked slowly, and allowed his breath to escape in an extended release. His eyes went back to the moving shadow. A strange glimmer caught his attention. He blinked and stared at the shine. The glimmer dimmed until he could make out a shape. A small stone deer, stained in blood, lay in the grass beneath the swaying shadow. His breath froze as his heart beat faster and faster. He shook his head and looked back at the now empty grass patch.

Eliot curled his bottom lip and glared up at the stars. "Damn you! I had it under control! I did!" he hissed. "Why did you do that to me? You think that helps me? Why!"

Silence answered his echo. Eliot snorted in disgust. His eyes watered and his lip twitched as he hung his head.


	6. Chapter 6

The suits of armor standing watch between the pillars gave Marin a tingle of excitement. She could hardly contain herself when the metal silhouettes had appeared in the corner of the storage unit. Her castle motif had felt thin and the knights with their broad swords and spears finally brought a sense of concreteness to the medieval era she hoped to capture.

"Please tell George I'm grateful for all his assistance in locating these gems. Genevive will be so ecstatic when she sees her own knight guard," Marin squealed.

"Indeed, ma'am," Parker bit her tongue.

"This party will be perfection. I found a caterer who is willing to do an old medieval pig roast feast, apple juice coming in old barrel kegs as a mead substitute, the tailor is fitting a pink princess gown with matching diamond tiara, a minstrel, and finding a doorman to announce the guests. I can't believe it is all coming together. It's incredible."

"Will there be anything else you require from us or simply finish the arrangements as outlined?" Parker asked sharply.

"I believe the arrangements are perfect as is, simply finish the floral arrangements and the table settings. It will be perfect." Marin sighed contentedly and hugged her purse against her chest. "I need to go check on the doorman, so I will take my leave. Again, thank you and the lady of the manor for all of your assistance with this."

"It's my job," Parker scoffed.

"Yes," Marin twisted her lip awkwardly. "Thank you." She slowly backed out of the room.

"Nate, how much longer? If I have to hear her say 'perfect' one more time…" Parker growled.

"Patience, Parker," Nate replied over the coms.

"I agree with her, that woman needs a new word," Hardison rolled his eyes.

"Can we focus on the plan instead of her vocabulary?" Nate locked his jaw in wait.

"Okay, how much longer before we nail her?" Parker asked.

"Soon," Nate stated.

* * *

Eliot skipped late lunch with the family. He found himself sitting on a stump in the backyard overlooking his mother's gardens. The rows of flowers running to his left with herbs and vegetables along his right gave him something to focus on. He stared at each plant labeling it and identifying its particular stage of growth. His plan worked for a few minutes until the red tomato and red flora overwhelmed his sight. All he could see was the small hand and the trickle of blood running down the fingers. His body shook as his lip trembled.

"You wanna talk about it?" Jesse's voice caused him to jump inside though he kept his physical reaction to nothing but a slight flinch away from her.

"Talk about what?" he choked.

"About what's been bothering you."

"I'm fine," he lied.

"Right, fine, I see. So it's normal for you to wake up in a cold sweat every night, to shout when you're alone, and to completely and utterly avoid your nephew and your family for that matter…"

"I'm not…"

"Eliot, you haven't looked at Dillon since you arrived. That isn't normal. Something is bothering you, something more than just Dad. We've all seen it and frankly it worries us."

"Just leave it," he muttered.

"I will not just leave it. Eliot, you've been on my case more times than I can count and you've always been right about me needing help. Now the shoe's on the other foot. Don't think I'm going to walk away. You're my brother, I love you and I'm not going to let you ignore this."

He snorted softly but didn't speak.

"Okay, you leave me no choice. I'll wait. But know this, if I sit down, YOU are getting my Buick sized ass back off the ground because I'm not doing it myself," she threatened. Jesse pressed her left arm against her pregnant belly to push her skirt back to see where her feet could cross as she began to slowly sink down.

"Don't…" Eliot sighed loudly. He slid over to the edge of the stump, giving her space to take a seat. She sat down facing the house so she could watch his face.

"Thank you, because I don't think even you were gonna get my butt back off that ground," she huffed.

He snorted to keep the small chuckle from materializing.

"Now, can we talk about this?"

"Nothing to talk about. In fact, I shouldn't be here." Eliot began to stand.

"You're right; you should be in the house with your family instead of out here in the yard all the time."

"No, I mean I shouldn't be here. I shouldn't be around any of you."

"What are you talking about? Why shouldn't you be here? We're your family, Eliot, and in times of tragedy- families stick together."

"You're not safe around me. None of you are. Nobody is. I'm a harbinger of death, that's what I am. I always have been and I always will be."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

"Nothing… just…nothing, okay!" He huffed.

"Why do you think you've always been a harbinger of death? That's kind of a big statement."

"Look at me," Eliot turned toward her and raised his eyes enough to see hers. "I've brought death and destruction since the moment I was born. Can't you see that? Mom, Dad, and so many others I can't possibly forget. That's what I do, that's who I am, and I can't. I can't watch someone else go in the ground because of me."

She swallowed and grabbed his hand. "Eliot, you didn't kill her and you didn't kill Dad…"

"They died because of me. If I hadn't been born she'd be alive, and if I had stayed away or picked him up or…"

"ELIOT! Stop. Without you Brixton would have killed us all. Without you, Mom would never have met Dad- I wouldn't exist- and your Dad may have been consumed by his depression. And your mom had a heart condition, any number of things could have killed her- but I guarantee that neither she nor Dad would ever regret you."

"What would you know about it? Dad still blamed me, and I deserved it. He only accepted me back because Mom made him. Sad thing is he was right to push me away."

"You really don't get it, do you? You honestly couldn't accept that Dad loved you and always did. After everything the last couple years, you still have the audacity to say that? You really are the most stubborn man I've ever known."

"What are you talking about?" Eliot furrowed his brow as he tried to comprehend.

"Let me show you how much Dad 'hated' you," Jesse offered. She pointed over at the swing set. "See that old swing set falling apart over there? Notice how it is the only old junk in the yard?"

Eliot looked around. "Yeah."

"Dad kept the yard perfect, but he never got rid of that swing set even when it rusted out. You want to know why?"

He poked his lip with his tongue but didn't respond.

"That swing set was the first thing you ever helped him assemble. You were seven and you helped him with every bolt, every decal. When it started falling apart, he refused to junk it because he always hoped you'd come back some day and help him restore it for Dillon or your own kids. Does that sound like a man who hated you? Dillon's staying in your old room- did you notice your posters are still hanging on the walls? Mom wanted to send them to the thrift market or even pack them away for you but Dad wanted them to be up on the wall so you felt at home when you came back."

Eliot stood on the verge of tears as he listened.

"He never stopped loving you, Eliot. He didn't show it like the movies say but he did it in his own way. You're as stubborn as he was. I know you don't put things out there for the world to see but you've got more emotion than anyone bottled up in there. The fact that you don't let it show is what causes you the most damage. Dad knew that, and I know he hoped to get that through to you. He was the same way until Brixton. He opened up, he let us in and he was happier for it. I really wish you'd do the same. I'm always afraid of what could happen to you when that bottle finally bursts."

A sniffle escaped Eliot's clenched face. "I can't do that to you. You can't understand what I've done."

"Maybe not, but I think Dad was right. You need to let it out to somebody. You're afraid of what we'll think of you- I understand that- but I think there is someone who will understand and I think you know exactly who it is. I hope you'll have the courage to have that talk sooner rather than later."

Eliot glanced at his hand in hers.

"You can't punish yourself for everything, Eliot. Death is part of life. Everyone is going to die, that doesn't make us all harbingers of death. People don't die because they're around you. There are plenty of us who are _alive_ because of you. That is what counts. You've saved all of us, Eliot. Let us help save you."

He gave her a meek nod.

"Okay. Now are you ready to join us?"

"Okay," he breathed.

"Help me up." He pulled her onto her feet. She grabbed his shoulder and pulled him into a hug.

"Don't you forget, Eliot. You're not the only one willing to die for this family. I love you, big brother." He bit back a laugh and let his tears fall on her shoulder as hers fell on his chest.

* * *

Parker practiced dropping down her rigging as Hardison worked his laptop. Nate and Sophie had retired for the evening leaving the two newer lovebirds to finish a couple details for the con and find their own entertainment for the night. The hacker tapped away on the keyboard as several open windows on the screen displayed various elements. Security footage, email lists, call logs, bank numbers and other vitals of their work demanded his attention.

"Are you done yet?" Parker asked as she slid to a stop half way down from the ceiling and twisted upside down.

"Almost, just two more minutes," he answered. He began closing side windows.

"Good, I'm a little hungry."

"Well, we can get some dinner before…" Hardison paused as something on the screen grabbed his attention.

"What is it?" Parker dropped to the floor and scurried around behind him as he opened several links.

"Oh, this isn't good."

"What is that?" Parker frowned.

Hardison pointed at a part of the screen in silence.

"Oh, that's not good," she clenched her teeth and curled her bottom lip.

"No, not good." Hardison dialed his cell. "Nate, we have a big problem."


	7. Chapter 7

Jesse pulled the last plate from the dishwater as Evelyn dried the finished dishes and put them away.

"I can't believe he still thinks Dad hated him. What more did the man have to do? He explained why he was so hard on him, and they've been talking, hugging… I don't get it," Jesse ranted.

"Your brother has always been stubborn, just like your father. Both so sensitive inside with that hardened shell on the outside. He knows… he's just too stubborn to believe it. It is easier to ignore what he sees than to change himself and accept it. Plus, it's your brother. He'll never accept that this wasn't his fault. I'm sure it is easier to bear if he thinks it was somehow justified."

"Justified? Justified?" Jesse glared at her mother.

"Settle down, you know what I'm trying to say."

"I know, I just, I just wanna slap him silly." She returned to the dishes.

"Well, I hope we don't have to do that. Not sure either one of us could make a dent in that boy's skull if we tried."

The women couldn't help the giggles that filled their chests at the image that created.

* * *

Evelyn emerged from the kitchen and poked her head into the living room where the men were sitting. Flynn read the newspaper while Dillon watched television and Eliot stared out the window.

"Eliot, could you give me a hand for a moment?" she asked. Flynn began to lay down his paper when Jesse came around behind her and pointed down for him to stay put. He nodded his understanding and slowly raised the paper back up.

"Sure," Eliot muttered and turned to follow her down the hall. Jesse gave his shoulder a light squeeze as he passed her.

As Eliot entered his parents' bedroom, Evelyn stood next to the dresser.

"Did you need something moved or put on the shelf?" he asked.

"Sit down," she ordered. He rolled his eyes at her. "Sit."

He huffed and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Eliot, I know you blame yourself for this, and I know nothing any of us say is going to change your mind. However, it hurts me to hear you say your father wasn't proud of you or didn't love you. I know you think all the efforts he made over the last couple years were my doing or simply the acts of an elder man 'life flashing before his eyes' wake up call. But let me tell you, they weren't."

"Jesse already told me about the swing set and the posters."

"That's nice but my guess is you think that's made up. And I can see why you would believe that. So let me show you something real." She grabbed a plastic bag off the dresser top and tossed it into his lap.

Eliot looked down at the bag. It was his father's effects still sealed from the hospital.

"Open it," Evelyn beckoned.

"Wha…" he began to argue.

"Open it. Grab his wallet." He tore the bag open and removed the imitation leather wallet. "Open it," she continued.

A sigh escaped his lips before Eliot cracked the spine on the wallet. The picture sleeves fanned out in the center. The top photo was a recent pic of William and Evelyn.

"Flip it," Evelyn urged.

Eliot pushed the sleeve over and found a copy of Flynn and Jesse's engagement photo opposite a picture of Dillon.

"One more," she pushed.

He flipped the sleeve over. The two pictures staring back at him were full of creases and faded colors- well-worn and showing their age. On the left, his mother Vivian sat in her wedding gown. The color was nearly faded out but he could see the echo of her blue eyes and the touch of pink on her lips. His eyes shifted to the right side picture. The colors were not as faded but had been through a lot of wear and tear as well. His jaw slowly sank as he comprehended what it was.

"H… how… this is from boot camp graduation. How?" he stammered as he stared at his picture.

"Your father and I were there. One of your instructors was a brother of a man your father served with in the military. He recognized your name on the file and contacted your father. He kept us updated on you and informed us of the ceremony. Your father was afraid you'd be upset and he was too scared to tell you the truth back then so we stayed out of sight."

"How did you get this picture?" Eliot stared at her, completely dumbfounded.

"You remember a young woman asking to take your picture?"

Eliot rolled the memory around his head a moment. "Cassidy, little blonde in the floral print?"

"That's the one. Your father paid her $30 to take his camera and get a picture of you- THAT picture. He made an 8 x 10 that hung behind the register at the store and that one for his wallet. It's been there ever since. Your father wasn't perfect, Eliot, but he never stopped being proud of you. He knew better than anybody that you'd do things you weren't proud of but he also knew that they wouldn't define you. Eliot, every single one of us do bad things. Every one. Those bad things don't define us unless we fail to recognize them and regret them. Those deeds, whatever they were, don't make you. What you do as a result of them and what you continue to do- those are who you are. Good deeds, bad deeds, neither will ever be erased by the other but it is what you aim to do that makes you. Your goal isn't to do harm, Eliot, it never has been and that is why whatever you have done will never be you. Your father would never accept that as being you. He knew who you were even when you didn't. Think about that. You are his son in every way. He meant every word he said. I know you don't think that any of us can handle what you've done- and you may be right. Sadly, I think your father would have understood if you had given him the chance. He would have handled it well and could have helped you find your own peace with it. I only hope you can find someone who can fill that space and offer you the release you need."

His head hung as he sniffled and absorbed everything. Her fingers extended out under his chin. She lifted until his watery eyes looked into hers.

"He loved _YOU_ , not necessarily what you did, but YOU. We both couldn't be any more proud of you. Don't look at what you've done, Eliot. Look at what you DO. That is who you are."

Eliot's bottom lip quivered as his emotions ran amok.

"I guess it doesn't pay to hold on to this anymore either." She dug an envelope out of the box on the dresser top and handed it to him. "Your father sat down every day for two years trying to write a letter to you after you left. Every day the page was as empty as it began. Finally he put the pen to the paper and he just wrote, and then he couldn't bring himself to mail it. He was ashamed of how he'd handled things, afraid you would never forgive him. I think it's time you both stopped running away from yourselves. That letter is yours. Read it, don't read it. Keep it, throw it out, it's up to you."

Evelyn clasped his temples in her hands and gently kissed the top of his head. She smiled and took her leave to allow him privacy. She quickly darted her head back in for a moment.

"There is one thing I would like to ask…"

* * *

"Why is she back in town? And why is she back at the mansion? Didn't you say we had a week before the staff would come back?" Sophie prattled.

"I don't know! I did my part… how was I supposed to know she would talk to friends who had just exterminated and learned it is only a couple of days treatment? She's still not supposed to be back but she's here," Hardison cried.

"So now what? We can't finish the party if the real Wescott is in the house and without the party, we can't catch Marin," Parker stated.

"It could still work if we can keep Marin away from the mansion. Keep her focused on the other details," Nate explained as he stood behind the crew seated at the table in the briefing room.

"That won't work forever. She'll insist on seeing her work take shape. We could buy a day or maybe two but she'll catch on if we tried more," Sophie insisted.

"Believe me, I know," Nate inhaled noisily as tried to quiet his mind.

"So we have to stall," Hardison filled in.

"Yeah."

"Great."

"Can't we try and get Wescott to leave again?" Parker offered.

"We already lied to her once to get her out, I don't think she'll be trusting us to fall for it again," Hardison complained.

"Well we have to do something," Sophie insisted.

"I'm working on it," Nate sighed.

* * *

Eliot rubbed the battered photograph from his father's wallet with his left thumb. He sat on the stump in the back yard once more. In one hand he held his photo, the still sealed letter in his other. His mind raced through everything Evelyn and Jesse had said. The letter beckoned him to open it but uncertainty kept him back. A fear he couldn't explain stayed his hand whenever he thought about opening the fragile envelope.

"Uncle Eliot?" Dillon's voice was meek, softening the shock to Eliot's ear at its suddenness. He hadn't heard his nephew exit the house or come up behind him. To his recollection, he had barely heard any move the boy had made all week.

He turned to face him. "Yeah, kiddo?"

"I don't know if this will work in this instance but I want to try anyway. I think you need this more than I do now." Dillon stretched out a closed fist. Eliot transferred the letter to his left hand and extended his empty right palm. His nephew dropped his gift in Eliot's hand and took a step back.

Eliot glanced down at his palm, knowing what he would see. There in the center was the small deer token. A momentary flash of the deer with blood dripping down on it came to his mind before being swallowed up by the image of Dillon squeezing it tight in Jesse's room at the hospital. He bit his lip trying to find the words he wanted.

"I hope it helps," Dillon mumbled. Eliot snorted lightly as the corner of his mouth curled up.

"Come here, buddy," he requested. Dillon stepped forward as Eliot wrapped his arm around his shoulders and gave him a side squeeze. "Thanks, and I'm sorry for… well, I'm sorry. I can't even begin to explain this week but I know you didn't deserve my attitude."

"It's okay," Dillon shrugged. "I was scared, but I know Mom and Grandma are on it so everything will be okay, right?"

Eliot chuckled, "Yeah, they are VERY persuasive, aren't they?"

"So you're all better?"

"I wouldn't say that, but I'm working on it and I promise I won't be so… you know."

"Good, I knew we could fix it."

"So you're the one who ratted me out?" Eliot smiled knowingly as he rubbed Dillon's head.

"I was worried. Mom didn't ask for help, so I knew you wouldn't."

"It's genetic," Eliot joked.

"I don't want it," Dillon scrunched his face.

"I think it skipped you."

"Good."

Eliot slid the deer token into his pocket. "Don't want to lose it. This little fella's seen us through a lot."

"Yep," Dillon agreed. His attention slid from Eliot's pocket to the hand holding the envelope and photo. "What is that?"

A swallow bought Eliot a moment before he answered. "A letter and photo from your grandpa." He twirled the pair in his fingers.

"What does it say?"

"I don't know, I haven't opened it." Eliot smacked the letter against his other hand.

"Why not?"

"I don't know," Eliot sighed. "I can't bring myself to open it."

"Aren't you curious what it says?"

"I am, but something seems to be holding me back."

Dillon's bottom lip twisted. "Do you want me to open it?"

"I don't know if he meant for you to read it, bud."

"I don't want to read it. I just thought if I open the envelope, it might help get you past this uncertainty."

A quick laugh escaped Eliot's chest. He handed the envelope to Dillon. "You may have something there."

The boy let his lips curl into a grin as he snatched the envelope up. He flipped it over, stuck his fingers under the flap and looked up at Eliot.

"Let 'er rip," Eliot urged.

Dillon tore the flap open. He sighed, turned it over and offered it back to his uncle. Eliot grabbed the envelope silently.

"Good luck," Dillon smiled. "Don't take too long though. Grandma wants everyone inside in about twenty minutes."

"Thanks, kiddo."

Dillon grinned and dashed off toward the house. Eliot watched his nephew enter the house before redirecting his sights on the envelope now unsealed in his hand. He twisted the envelope back and forth as he considered his options. For a moment he paused and twitched a finger under the flap.

"No, I'm sorry, Dad. I'm not ready yet," he apologized as he clutched the envelope tightly. He stood up and began a slow trudge back to the house.


	8. Chapter 8

The gun shot echoed in his head every time he closed his eyes. Eliot tossed and turned for the fourth straight night. He couldn't shake the image or the panic it set in motion. Sitting in the dark, sweating and shaking left him irritated. The ire came out in several curses under his breath.

Flynn exited the bathroom before he heard the mutterings coming from the dark living room. He paused to listen closer.

"You need something?" Eliot's voice growled. The breath caught in Flynn's throat before he could answer.

"No, I just heard a noise was all. You couldn't sleep either?" Flynn entered the living room as Eliot turned on the lamp next to the couch.

"Haven't tried…" Eliot lied as Flynn sat on the chair next to him.

"I'm sorry about all the nagging. They mean well."

"I know," Eliot rubbed his face. "I guess what gets me is I don't understand where they think I hated Dad or thought he hated me…"

"You have been kind of indifferent and hostile every time he's brought up, I can see where they may be mistaken to think that."

"I haven't…" Eliot reconsidered for a moment. "Yeah, okay, maybe I have."

Flynn nodded. A scowl crossed Eliot's face as he thought about what Flynn said.

" _They_?" he muttered.

"Yes, they- Evelyn, Jesse… They've never been in that position so they can't comprehend how different the grief can hit."

Eliot narrowed his eyes at his brother-in-law. "What are you talking about?"

"The feeling is strong but it is possible to get control back." Flynn looked at Eliot.

"Flynn…"

"My parents…" Flynn swallowed. "They died when I was a sophomore in high school. A deer came out of nowhere, Dad overcorrected and… they were killed immediately."

"I'm sorry, but I don't understand…" Eliot frowned.

"They were on their way to one of my soccer games in a neighbor town. I rode with a teammate's family. I ran the gambit of guilt. I quit the team and ran through the what ifs. What if I hadn't played? What if I hadn't asked to ride with Billy so they would have been there earlier? It's a dark path. Eventually I ran out of what ifs and I began to see the what ifs behind the what ifs. What if I had rode with them and we left earlier and were hit by a drunk driver? For every scenario I thought to save them, I thought of two more ways they may have died. It took me a long time but I realized that what happened wasn't my fault, it was just life. Giving up wasn't the answer. Quitting the team couldn't bring them back- it was more like I was making their deaths meaningless. They died coming to support me because they loved me and were proud of me. I was taking that away from them by quitting and disappearing into myself. It took me a while to get that far, but I did it. I rejoined the team the following season and I played my heart out for my parents.

"I see you struggling with that. Nothing any of us can say or do will change it. You have to get there in your own time. I understand that, they can't. All I can say is remember why he was there and what you meant to him. Once you have that, live it for all it's worth and you'll realize that his death wasn't meaningless."

Eliot's mouth hung slightly agape as he struggled to find the words to reply.

"You don't have to respond, just think about it. I should get to bed, and you need some sleep." Flynn stood and retreated back down the hall to the bedroom.

Eliot turned the light off and closed his eyes. He could hear himself breathe in the still air. His mind raced with thoughts of the accident, the ambulance ride and the last moments in the hospital. It was hard to admit but he knew Flynn was right. The what ifs had run their course. It was time he stopped thinking about that. The guilt would never leave, just as the guilt that had kept him from sleeping the last few nights had never left, but he could control it. He HAD controlled it. It was all a matter of figuring out how. Flynn told him to remember. One problem plagued Eliot's mind. Their broken relationship hadn't been fully restored. Eliot wasn't sure what he meant to his father, and he wasn't sure he knew what his father meant to him either. The man was gone and all Eliot could do was put pieces together to make a partial picture.

He sighed and sat up. His right hand reached out to turn on the lamp. His left hand grabbed the envelope from his father off the table. One deep breath later, he pulled the letter out and unfolded it.

 _"Eliot,_

 _I know we left things in a bad place and I want you to know that I accept the blame for that. I wish I could find the words to explain to you why I did what I did and why I was so hard on you but I'm not sure I'm ready for that. I do want to say that it was my doing, not yours. You grew up before I was ready to accept it and became a man I have nothing but pride in. I should have told you that I was proud of you, AM proud of you and always have been. You were the man of the house when your mother needed you, a guardian when Jesse needed you, a chip off the old block whether I was ready for it or not. You told me you needed to go, that you needed to experience the world and that the military was the best way to do that. The best use of your natural abilities you said. What I never told you was that I knew you were right. I knew it since you were 5 years old. A soldier was written on your heart even then. I'm proud of you, and I'm ashamed I never did tell you._

 _I don't know where you are or what you may be doing right now, but I do know where you'll find yourself. You'll do things you never dreamed of doing, and they won't all be things you'll want to remember or take pride in. Believe me. They are inevitable in your position. Don't let them consume you. Every moment is a capsule. You can't judge your actions after the fact, it isn't fair. Just know that you will do things you'll want to take back but you can't. You have to live with them. But trust me, don't forget them. It may be easier to sleep, but that is an illusion. You have to learn and grow from the negative the same as you do from the positive. Know that no matter what you do, it will never change who you are, not permanently. A wrong turn doesn't mean you don't reach your destination- you simply take a different way. I'm proud of you, and I always will be. Do what you need to do and I know you will make that difference in the world you dream._

 _I love you, son._

 _Dad."_

The tear rolling down Eliot's cheek barely registered to his mind. He could almost feel a hand on his shoulder as he heard his father's voice reading the letter in his head. The letter was dated a couple months after his initial deployment. The words he had longed to hear but were never uttered. Eliot wanted to curse his father for not sending the letter, for not giving him that message in a timely fashion. A small voice in the back of his mind chided him. It reminded him of the head strong, defiant young man he was at that point in time. The man hungry to change the world and prove himself to be bigger than the son of a small town shop owner. That Eliot, that kid, would never have taken the message to heart. He wouldn't have understood until he came face to face with the wrongs he would commit. His father had held back the letter. Evelyn told him it was shame and embarrassment- but Eliot wasn't sure.

He refolded the letter, slid it into the envelope and placed it on his chest as he lay back down.

* * *

"Good morning sweetheart," Evelyn chirped as she spotted Jesse standing at the end of the hallway.

"Shhh!" Jesse raised a finger and beckoned her mother to approach silently. She nodded her head toward the living room. Evelyn peered around her into the room. Eliot was snoring softly on his right side- his face partially burrowed into the pillow. His right arm was curled up beneath it while his left arm dangled down off the edge of the couch.

"Finally," Evelyn breathed.

"I wonder who got to him?" Jesse pondered.

Evelyn smiled. "I have a pretty good idea." She led Jesse with her eyes. The envelope caught their attention from the floor beneath Eliot's extended left hand.

Jesse snorted. "Even dead he has a way with people."

"Fathers and sons… mothers and daughters… some relationships transcend everything," Evelyn offered.

"Everything about covers it…" Jesse laughed.

"We should go. Don't want to be waking him too soon. My poor little boy, I wish I could make it all better but grown up issues just aren't that simple."

"No, no they're not. But if there's a way to fix it, you'll find it," Jesse grinned.

* * *

"Mr. Carlyle is incredibly impressed with the job you've done. He knew it was a tall order and you exceeded our expectations," Nate praised as Marin blushed. They sat at a small coffee shop table.

"I'm not done yet," Marin replied. "I'm so pleased that he appreciates everything. This was definitely the biggest event I've ever done but somehow, the most fun as well."

"That is wonderful to hear. If you enjoyed it, then we should expect you'll want to accept any future business we may have as well."

Her face lit up. "Any time he needs me, I'm there."

Nate returned her grin. "That's what I like to hear."

"I should go handle the last touches to the party. Don't want to fail at the last minute."

"No, I'm sure everything is in order. I have a sense about these things and I've seen how you handled yourself. It will go without a hitch. Just relax and take the night off," Nate urged.

"You're right. What could go wrong?" She slouched in the chair.

"Now you're getting it. Have fun tonight; let the party take care of itself."

"Are you seeing someone, Mr. Montgomery?" Marin traced her finger around her jaw line as she spoke.

"Uhhhhh," Nate stammered. "What?"

"Oh, I see, complicated. Okay. She's a lucky lady… or gent, I guess. Not judging."

"SHE is… yes," he managed to respond.

"I'll let you get to her. I'm going to drop in and check that they matched the napkins properly and then take the night off as you suggested. Thanks again, Mr. Montgomery." Marin gave a soft nod and excused herself.

"Way to go, Casanova." Hardison's voice echoed across the com.

"NATE, what did you do? First rule of the grift- flirting is your friend. You could have had her wrapped up right there, now we have to figure out how to stop her," Sophie barked on the com.

"I know, sorry. I wasn't ready for that," Nate apologized.

"Seriously, Nate? She's newly single, attracted to money and power and you're a good looking guy with a powerful boss. Really?" Sophie chided.

"Can we argue this later and figure out how to stop her from completely blowing the whole con right now?" Hardison whined. "She IS making a bee line straight for the mansion."

"We could crash her car," Parker offered.

"Parker…" Sophie choked.

"No, Parker. I have an idea," Nate insisted.

* * *

Marin pulled up to the wrought iron gate of the Wescott mansion. She noticed a large increase in the number of people on the premises from her previous visits. The curiosity nagged at her.

"May I help you, Miss?" the guard answered.

"It's Marin Randall. I'm here to check on the Carlyle party arrangements."

"I'm sorry, miss, you must have the wrong residence. There is no one here by the name of Carlyle."

"No, you don't understand. I rented out part of the mansion for the Attorney General Vincent Carlyle's daughter. We're throwing her a big medieval princess party."

"Ma'am, I don't know what you are talking about but Ms. Wescott does not rent her residence out to anyone, and she certainly wouldn't have anything to do with the Attorney General."

"Let me talk to Simone, she'll straighten everything out."

"Simone?"

"Yes, Simone. Ms. Wescott's assistant. She's been handling the arrangements- getting the hall decorated. I wrote her the check for crying out loud."

"Ma'am, I don't know who you were talking to, but there is no Simone here either."

"I demand to speak with Ms. Wescott!" Marin yelled.

"Johann, what is all the commotion down there? The raised voices are scaring poor Cicely," a woman's voice demanded over the PA.

Johann pressed a button on the wall. "This woman is telling some story about renting out the mansion for AG Carlyle, Ma'am."

"Carlyle? That snake, whatever in the world would I let him on my property for? Send her away. I don't want any of his dirty accomplices here," Ms. Wescott's voice ordered.

"Yes, ma'am," he replied. "I'm sorry, Miss, but you'll have to vacate this area."

"THAT was not Ms. Wescott. I demand to know what in the hell is going on here. I paid damn good money for a party to be thrown here tomorrow and it is going to happen. I am calling Simone right now, and you people are going to be in deep trouble when the REAL Ms. Wescott gets wind of this." Marin grabbed her cell and dialed Parker.

"Ma'am, I don't care who you call. That was Ms. Wescott, the REAL Ms. Wescott that resides here and if you don't vacate this property, I'm going to have to call the police."

"Make your call. I'll call the Attorney General if I have to…"

Johann grabbed the guard stand phone and dialed the police.

" _We're sorry, the number you have dialed is unavailable. Please check your number and dial again."_ The operator's voice was gasoline to Marin's anger.

"What is going on? YOU!" she jabbed a finger at the guard. "I don't know what game you're playing but it won't work. Open this door or give me back the check."

"Ma'am, you're NOT getting through here, and there is no check to give you. I'm sorry."

"Not half as sorry as you could be. You do NOT want to mess with me. You think I'm some poor schmuck you can con. Oh believe me, you aren't even close to my level. I will end you."

"Threats are not taken lightly around here, ma'am, I suggest you think carefully," the guard insisted, the call to the police still open in his hand.

"Threat hell, you wouldn't be the first. Give me back my money!"

"Ma'am…" the guard tried to reason.

"If you call me ma'am ONE more time… you'll join my husband, or should I say ex-husband now that's he's dead?"

"Excuse me, do we have a problem?" a deep voice joined the conversation. Marin turned to hiss at the new participant when she saw two uniformed cops standing behind her vehicle.

"This woman is causing a disturbance, demanding to be let in. She's making wild accusations and threatened me. I believe she also just may have admitted killing someone before- maybe her husband. She seems angry and unstable," the guard explained.

"Lies!" Marin hissed. The guard pointed at the security camera above him recording the whole exchange.

"Ma'am, I'm going to need you to step out of the car," the deep voiced officer asked.

* * *

"How did you know she'd confess to killing her husband?" Hardison asked Nate as the team entered their meeting room.

"She killed her husband for wanting to stop money from coming in… Granted I couldn't be sure she'd confess, but it wasn't hard to see she'd threaten anyone she perceived to be stealing from her," Nate explained.

"So the confession was sort of a nice surprise?" Parker interrupted.

"Yeah, kind of. The confession was really just to get the cops to reopen the investigation. They'll figure it out themselves."

"But how do you know they'll be able to prove anything?" Hardison questioned.

"I'm sure the very angry attorney general breathing down their necks will ensure that."

"So Wescott and Carlyle hate each other? Interesting approach. Elegant, simple," Sophie smiled.

"And the money?" Nate asked.

"The cops can access the newest crowdfund. Unfortunately they don't have the authority to do anything about the previous ones," Hardison began.

"THEY don't, but what did WE do?" Parker prodded.

"WE were able to hack the crowdfunding sites and the overseas accounts. All the donations were mysteriously refunded to the original donors." Hardison tipped his orange soda before taking a sip.

"What about the daughter?" Parker frowned.

"Oh, Genevive Carlyle?" Hardison grinned. "The little 'princess' is a tom boy of epic proportions. Daddy rented that old mall off the north highway they're tearing down. He turned the bottom into a giant go-kart track and the second floor into a zombie laser tag course."

"Cool, I want one," Parker's face lit up fiendishly.

"Me too," Hardison agreed.

"No," Nate stated. Hardison rolled his head to stare at Nate in shock.

"Well, look at that. And we still have time to make it," Sophie redirected.

"Yep," Nate sighed as they all swallowed their nerves.


	9. Chapter 9

Eliot stared out at the crowd of people gathered beside the headstone. The closed casket to his right felt surreally large. All of the faces before him stared back through their tears, waiting for him to speak. His eyes scanned the group. Nate and the crew sat toward the back, allowing William's close friends to have a nearer view. Evelyn, Jesse, Flynn and Dillon filled the front row closest to him.

"If you would have told me ten years ago that I would be standing here doing this, I probably would have laughed. But here I am, and I'm not laughing. Dad was a hard man to read and an even harder one to understand. I spent half my life separated from him thinking he hated me or hated my decisions. Sad to think that it wasn't until his health scare a couple years ago that I found he was proud of me and my decisions but knew they wouldn't be what I thought. He knew me better than anyone and tried to protect me. I grew up with a stranger… a whole life he tried to hide and he couldn't. A life we have come to share. The cliché about not knowing what you have until it's gone- well I missed my father until I was losing him. Now that he's gone, I feel like I finally know the man who made me. I will miss him, but I have to wonder if he were still with us if I would ever truly have understood him and appreciated him like I can now. Part of me will always regret that I never took the time to understand him when I was younger. For better or worse, I am my father's son and in that I find some comfort. For all his faults, for all his secrets... he was a knowing father, a loving husband and a caring grandfather. If there was one thing I regret most, it is that my niece Vivian is going to grow up never having met him. That is a void that will never be filled. We will miss him, _I_ will miss him. Godspeed and I love you, Dad," he nodded as he fought to control his emotions.

The crowd responded with various goodbyes and few - soft applause. Evelyn mouthed a thank you to Eliot as the crowd began to stand and pay their last respects. He circled the podium and took his spot next to Evelyn as the crowd made their passes.

Nate and the crew waited for the end of the line to cross. They took deep breaths as they approached Dillon and Flynn first.

"Sorry, you know, for him dying," Parker mumbled. Hardison rolled his head.

Flynn scrunched his brow. "Uh, thanks."

Dillon nodded at her.

"Condolences," Hardison added as he shook Flynn's hand.

"Thank you."

"Sorry," Sophie gave Flynn and Dillon both a small hug as Nate followed shaking hands.

Jesse made everyone give her a hug. Evelyn shook hands, thanking and blessing every one of them.

The team found themselves at a loss when they reached Eliot. Parker and Hardison bit their lips. Nate and Sophie took a beat before approaching.

Sophie grabbed Eliot into a big hug. "I'm so sorry, Eliot. I know this is really hard on you."

"Anything you need, you got it," Nate added.

"I think you already did that," Eliot replied as he locked eyes with him.

"We couldn't let something like that go, could we?"

"Thanks," Eliot mumbled.

"Any time," Parker chirped. Everyone glared at her.

"We really need to work on your funeral etiquette." Hardison shook his head.

"Sorry," she answered.

"It's alright, Parker," Eliot sighed.

Evelyn placed her hand on his shoulder. "Eliot, honey, we're going to get started loading up. You take your time."

"Okay, Mom."

"I'm so glad all of you could make it. Thank you. I know William would have appreciated it," Evelyn offered before Dillon grabbed her arm and led her to the car, followed by Flynn and Jesse.

"She's right. It was really great that you guys showed up. Not just for me," Eliot concurred.

"We wouldn't have missed it for the world," Sophie smiled.

"So what's going on yet today?" Hardison asked.

"I think Mom's planning on asking y'all to dinner. That's pretty much it today. Didn't want anything too extravagant," Eliot answered.

Sophie nodded. "I think we should probably go help with that." She nudged Parker and Hardison.

"Nate, can I talk to you for a minute first?" Eliot swallowed.

"Sure." Nate nodded at the others to go. He shoved his hands in his pockets as he waited for them to be out of earshot.

Eliot scratched the back of his head trying to decide how to say what he wanted to say.

"What did you need?" Nate prodded.

"I've gotten a lot of advice over the last week, starting with Dad at the hospital and even Flynn got in on it last night…"

"You want my advice?" Nate frowned.

"No, I want to tell you something… but I'm not sure if I should. It isn't something I've ever shared before and for good reason."

Nate nodded. "I know more than you think I do. Whatever it is, I promise it won't change my opinion of you. And the others don't need to hear it if you don't want."

"I appreciate that. They wouldn't be able to handle it, especially Hardison. I think that may actually be worse."

"If this is what I think it is, yeah, it might be better to leave him in the dark. One question though. What made you decide to tell me?"

"Dad," Eliot sighed. "The last conversation we had was an argument about this. Instead of telling each other we cared, saying goodbye- we fought. He thought I should share the story with someone, anyone, and be able to put it behind me. I didn't think anyone could handle it. But I've probably learned more this week than I have most of my adult life. I think he was right. I probably should have told him. He could have understood. Now he's gone."

"Well, I have to say I'm honored to be a second choice to a guy like that. Your dad was a pretty great guy."

"Thing is, when I thought about it, I don't think you would really be a second choice." Eliot looked him in the eye.

Nate nodded silently.

Eliot bit his lip. "I wanted to tell both of you, and somehow this feels like the last chance." He glanced back at the casket before returning his gaze to Nate.

"Should I sit down or something?" Nate teased.

"Maybe…"

* * *

Flynn glanced back after the cars were loaded. Jesse was shifting in her seat as she tried to buckle the seatbelt.

"They'll be along shortly," Sophie told him. She patted his back.

"I know. I'm glad to see Eliot talking to someone. He worried us all week."

"Not just you."

"Flynn…" Jesse huffed.

"Yeah," he answered as he bent over to look in the vehicle.

"We may need to change destination," she breathed heavily.

"Did we forget something?"

"Not something…" she began taking deep, deliberate breaths.

"Baby?!" Sophie cooed.

"Oh, yeah," Jesse swallowed.

"Okay, okay, I got it…" Flynn rambled.

"Flynn," Sophie grabbed his shirt front and made him look at her. "I'll drive, you get in the back."

"Okay," he agreed and gave her the keys.

"Hardison, you and Parker take care of Dillon and Evelyn. Let Nate and Eliot know and we'll see you at the hospital," Sophie ordered as she climbed into the driver's seat.

"You got it!" Hardison waved her off. She pulled away.

"We can't leave the boys back there," Evelyn fretted as she looked back at Nate and Eliot.

"I'll get them!" Dillon shouted and took off before anyone could stop him.

* * *

Eliot rolled his tongue behind his teeth as he grew silent. Nate's eyes were downcast as he processed the story.

"I can understand why you want to file that away," Nate finally responded.

"Thanks for listening. I hope Dad was right. I'm not sure how much more I can take of these…"

"Nightmares?"

"Nightmares, daymares, visions, whatever you want to call them. All of them," Eliot admitted.

"I'm kind of surprised they don't happen more. Hazard of the job."

"They do, just usually not this bad."

"UNCLE ELIOT!" Dillon's shout interrupted them.

"What is it, kiddo?" Eliot sniffed and wiped his face before Dillon got close.

"She's coming! We gotta go!"

"Baby's coming?"

"Yep, Sophie just took Mom and Flynn to the hospital. Everybody else is waiting for you guys."

"Guess dinner is postponed," Nate laughed.

"Guess so," Eliot agreed. "Lead the way, kiddo. We can't be late to meet your new baby sister."


End file.
